é melhor que ler o VHM no JL

I wake up in the morning in New York City, where I live. There is running water and electricity. I make coffee and put on music. I switch on my computer and read my email. I take a shower, I select a scarf, I select a hat. Everything is intact. The first line of Maurice Blanchot’s The Writing of the Disasterreads, ‘The disaster ruins everything, all the while leaving everything intact.’1 Everything is intact, but the disaster has ruined everything, the disaster I have always feared, everything is soaked through with the color of the disaster.

Far from any notion that the real disaster is yet to come, we should recognize that the disaster is totally here, simply not evenly distributed (to adapt what William Gibson said about the future). Is it that things could become very bad, or is it that things are already very bad? Is the current situation terrible, or is it already unspeakable? The question that contains the answer is: ‘For whom?’ For families torn apart by American inhospitality, the disaster is already here. For the young man slaughtered on a train in Portland for standing up in defense of women being harassed, the disaster is apocalyptic. For the people who live in zones where the ‘relaxed’ rules of military engagement are in force, life is the disaster, and nothing at all is intact.


The disaster is the core out of which reality unfolds. Everything else is epiphenomenal. The despot’s personal style, the vulgarity, the dyslexia, the hair, the crude sentences, these are surface effects. To lose sight of the core and to treat the epiphenomena as the reality is to risk becoming, oneself, disastrous. It would be a mistake to consider any single action undertaken by the current American president or government as ‘the straw that breaks the camel’s back’, just as it would be a mistake to think we are merely en route to the disaster. It is here, and if we did not prepare for it before, we must prepare for it now, now that it is here.

Teju Cole, aqui

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